


Exceptions

by Manda



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biting, Blindfolds, But still pretty smutty in itself!, Drabble, Lovely commenters made me write a second chapter, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot, Possessive!Hannibal, Second chapter is pure PWP, dom!hannibal, if you look for it, mild blood play, pre-porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manda/pseuds/Manda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will walks into his therapy session with a hickey on his neck. Hannibal is unimpressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There was a tube* strike and I was stuck on a bus in heavy traffic for ages so OBVIOUSLY this happened.  
> Currently a 50/50 chance I'll write the next bit. Let's see... 
> 
> *(subway / metro)

Hannibal followed Will in to his office and sat in his customary position opposite him. His eyes trained on the love bite high on Will’s neck beneath his left ear.

Burst capillaries spread out in a vivid oval. Cheap. Tasteless. Clumsy. 

_Inelegant._

Will followed Hannibal’s gaze and had the grace to look embarrassed. 

“You’ve had company.” Hannibal managed a half a smile, it passed as encouraging, almost friendly. He was fuming. 

“Not really. I got talked into going to a bar with Price and Zeller but they got called away before I could make my own excuses. I stayed for a while and…” Wills hand lifts, indicates dismissively towards his neck “.. things got out of hand.”

“This wasn’t consensual?” 

Will sighed.

“It’s wasn’t **non** consensual, it just… I wasn’t looking for anything, but it seemed easier than saying no. He wasn’t a pushy guy, just – we’d both had a drink. I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to talk about, it was a harmless mistake.”

Hannibal felt a rush of pleasure at the shame and disappointment visible there. He knew he shouldn’t but he wanted to pick, like a child pulling wings from flies. 

“He introduced himself?” Hannibal started gently.

“He came to my table. As I say it just seemed easier to let him sit while I finished my drink.” 

Hannibal could imagine it. Will with his head down, body language not dissimilar to his current stance, low, shoulders curved in, defensive, shut off from the world and peering into his drink. Hannibal would have noticed him too, broody type alone in the corner; attractive in a damaged kind of way. He isn’t surprised someone approached him. 

“He didn’t just sit.” Hannibal pushed a little further.

“No.” 

Will didn’t elaborate. Hannibal wasn’t deterred. 

“And are you sexually interested in men, typically?”

Will half-laughed on an exhale, a self deprecating sound.

“Typically” he enunciated the word carefully “I am not sexually interested.”

“Has this always been the case?”

“With the occasional exception, yes.”

“Tell me about the exceptions.”

Will looked up and Hannibal caught his eye. Will looked vulnerable. Tired. Something in Hannibal snapped - as clear and final as the vertebrae of a broken neck. Will was too tired to play. Too tired to, for want of a better word, ‘flirt’ around the issue at hand. Nuance exhausted him. Will preferred clarity, needed it, and Hannibal was more than confident he could be extremely clear about this issue. 

“Or rather, let me tell you about the exceptions.” 

Hannibal stood, walking towards Will and stopping a little too close for politeness. 

“Your particular _gifts_ …” he said the word as if they were anything but, “not only incline you towards avoiding eye contact, but make sexual relationships almost painful for you. How much you must see in moments of intimacy…”

Hannibal untied his tie as he mused, expertly unpicking the knot of his Double Windsor and smoothing the expensive material through his hands.

“It must put you in a position of great power to see a person bare before you in mind but also in flesh…” 

Hannibal pressed the tie over Will’s eyes and moved to knot it behind his head. Will is too shocked to respond, it seems. Muscles tense, flooded with adrenaline. Hannibal smiled fully now, unseen. 

“I don’t think…” he paused to run a fingernail from the makeshift blindfold, round Will’s neck, and sharply over the offending love bite “…that power suits you. You said this gentleman from last night “wasn’t pushy” – to anyone else that would sound like a kindness…”

Hannibal let Will anticipate his conclusion. He could almost feel him arrive at the realisation.

“But do you know what I heard, Will? I heard regret. He asked when you didn’t want to be _asked_. I am not asking. I am _taking_.”

Will let out a shudder of a breath, his shoulders lowered and Hannibal could now clearly see the stirrings of an erection beneath his pants. Silently he toed off his shoes and moved back in front of the seated man. He leaned forward, inhaled, and bit, hard, over the stranger’s mark. When Will let out a surprised cry he clamped down harder, until he tasted blood. A proper job, unafraid, perfect teeth marks and warm red liquid rising freely, not trapped impotently under the skin. Hannibal pressed his lips against the drops of blood then whispered, bloody, onto the other man’s mouth

“Get on your knees for me, Will.”

Will moved forward to meet Hannibal in a kiss, but he was already gone, leaving nothing but the taste of his own blood on his lips and the heavy throb of a bite that transferred pain right down the muscle in his neck every time he swallowed. Obediently he slid from the chair and dropped straight to his knees with a bump on the carpet where a hand met him and tangled firmly in his hair.

“Unzip me.” Hannibal’s accent was slightly thickened with interest.

Unable to see, Will ran his hands up Hannibal’s legs until his fingertips hit leather. He unbuckled the belt, flicked the button of his pants open and lowered the zipper. He paused instinctively for new instructions. 

Hannibal palmed his own erection and looked down at the man, blindfolded and bleeding, at his feet. Impulsive, he concluded. Unprofessional. But worth it. His hand wrapped around his warm, thick length as he lifted himself out of his underwear. Holding himself in one hand, he used his other hand in Will’s hair to pull the younger man him off of his heels until he was kneeling up.

“Kiss.” 

Hannibal pressed the head of his cock against Will’s lips, red with his own blood in a perverse parody of lipstick.

“Have you sucked cock before, Will?” 

Hannibal’s voice was melodic, delighting in the juxtaposition of presenting the harsh words so carefully. Will shook his head, a string of pre-come trailing between his lips and Hannibal’s erection as he moved.

“Have you had yours sucked?”

A nod from the man beneath him.

“Did you ejaculate?”

Another nod. 

“Remember exactly what was done to you, Will, and replicate it.”

***


	2. Second Chapters Of One-Shots Don't Get Titles (PWP)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally I take a line from the chapter as a summary but not a single one of these isn't p0rn so... that pretty much says it all, yes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I fail at one shots.  
> But that's okay - because smut? Y/Y? 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Blindfolded with his Psychiatrist's silk tie, kneeling in his office with the taste of his own blood and Hannibal’s pre-cum mixing intoxicatingly in his mouth - it seemed to Will that under any normal circumstances he should have panicked, felt awkward, or at least questioned the proceedings. 

As it happened, Will had no reference point for ‘normal circumstances’ and therefore none of the above entered his mind. He was, with a singular clarity, going to do exactly as he was told. 

And, somehow, if he wasn’t hallucinating, Hannibal had told Will to suck his cock.

 

Will cast his mind back to the last really good blowjob he’d had. It was a while ago now, but his memory was clear. He nuzzled his head forward seeking out the flat plane of Hannibal’s pubis, lapping and gently biting at the very base of his erection. Teasing, so that the length brushed along his cheek rasping softly against the very slight stubble there. He was determined not to rush, planting kiss after open-mouthed kiss on the other man’s lower belly and the sides of his shaft, tasting every inch he could find while avoiding the more sensitive areas – for now. 

With every kiss Will found himself more desperate to fill his remaining senses with the man before him. He wanted to block out every sensation that wasn’t Hannibal. Straining to hear every caught breath, he eagerly investigated every taste, texture and smell – that smell, Hannibal’s smell…

Underneath the expensive cologne (with occasional tones of bitter coffee or sweet wine, depending on the time of day,) Hannibal smelt like ... Will struggled to place it and then when he placed it, he struggled to find another way to categorise it – because he would later swear that Hannibal’s skin, the scent of his arousal, was nothing less than the scent of power itself. Will hadn’t ever experienced anything like it. A dark, heavy, musky scent that communicated directly to the most primal part of his brain – removing all options apart from ‘more’, ‘again’, ‘this’, and ‘Yes, Hannibal’… 

Hannibal’s cock felt hot and heavy where it met his cheek and the temptation to extend his sensation seeking to include it seemed impossible to ignore much longer. Will pressed a closed-mouthed almost chaste kiss to the thickness of the shaft before tentatively and oh-so-slowly running the flat of his tongue in a broad stroke from the very base of the underside to the tip where he met a bead of wetness, and a new taste to categorise. 

Inexperienced as he was, he momentarily regretted the loss of his sight as a guiding sense as to whether Hannibal was enjoying this as much as Will wanted him to be, but the lament was interrupted by the slightest moan – little more than an exhalation really – from the man above him. Still, that sound ripped through Will like a forest fire on sun-scorched ground. He was alight; he repeated the action and was rewarded with another low rumble of pleasure. 

“Good boy, Will.” 

Will involuntarily paused. Shock and a sense of being offended rose instantly in him but they found no home and dissipated just as quickly. His cock further thickened, ignored, in his pants. 

Will was licking circles at the head of Hannibal’s cock, remembering the edges of frustration he’s been driven to by this. Remembering how he’d eventually cracked and thrust hard against the woman before him. He couldn't help but wonder if he could make Hannibal do the same to him. He couldn't help but wonder if it was possible to ‘make’ Hannibal Lecter do anything at all. 

Will moaned next; a guttural keening around the head of his Psychiatrists cock. A situation and sound that appeared both foreign to his own ears and like, forgive the pun, a mother tongue. 

“So perfect, Will, such a good boy.”

Again. Again. Will couldn’t parse the words, couldn’t understand why hearing them pulled a whimper from his throat and another bead of moisture from his cock. He only knew he would carry on doing anything, anything, to hear that familiar accent praising him. 

Hannibal looked down at his friend much as he did upon all of humanity. A helpless thing, lost, in need of guidance, blind to see and fumbling to learn. It brought him immense satisfaction to have reduced Will to this. To see him respond to any noise Hannibal chose to permit him, or any movement of his hand in the younger man’s unkempt hair. It aroused him at least as much as the physical act of fellatio did, if not more. He smirked a half smile, unseen, to see the wave of involuntary physical responses he was drawing from Will. A part of his mind settled to consider how they might best be singled out from one another, properly categorised, tested. What little could be known from an initial experiment. How much there was to know. 

Will moved enthusiastically, almost frantically, over Hannibal’s cock, one hand tracing up the inside of his pant leg to cup his balls. He was eager, though clearly new to this and if Hannibal were in this for the physical pleasure alone it would have been a frustration how little of his length Will could take without gagging. Although, Hannibal thought as he thrust softly but unexpectedly into the willing mouth before him, hearing him gag was its own joy.

Will was himself frustrated at his lack of experience, he was cultivating a newfound respect for every woman he had received oral sex from. He wanted, desperately, to take the length of Hannibal into his throat. He pulled his awareness from hind brain back to a place of coherent thought – he breathed more regularly from his nose, he tried to relax his tight and tired jaw, but most of all he visualised how it would feel to have his airway blocked by Hannibal’s erection. The thought made him dizzy with arousal and, after a few more strokes, he was taking much more of Hannibal’s cock with each stroke. Not quite deep throating, but much closer. 

At the sudden increase in depth Hannibal jerked up into the wet mouth before him and a breathy growl hit the air before he could swallow it back. His perfectly cultured façade mostly still in place apart from the smallest fractures, face flushed, eyes dark, breath laboured - though there was no one to witness it. Inside his blood ran hot and his limbs felt weak. 

“William.” 

He tested the name. A moan surrounded his cock in response. Hannibal smiled. 

“William, I am going to finish in your mouth, I want you to swallow – can you do that for me?” And then, on a whim .. “Can you be a good boy?”

Will cried out as if it was he close to orgasm, nodded as best he could without breaking stride and – if it were at all possible – seemed to suck Hannibal ever more deeply and eagerly.

Hannibal watched Will, blind and desperate to please him. Looked at his untouched erection and the darkening of this pants where his arousal had leaked into the fabric. Considered how eagerly he had fallen to his knees, how readily he had opened his mouth for him, how overwhelming his responses and just as he felt his arousal peak, he whispered it one more time – just to see again the reaction 

“Good boy.”


End file.
